i know i could love you if we tried
by julian bb
Summary: Sam needs help. Rachel needs someone. Maybe they just need each other.


**Disclaimer: I own nothing except the Mac in which I wrote this on…**

**AN: So, this song came up on my iPod shuffle and this pretty much wrote itself after that. Set after 'Rumours' with spoilers for 'Funeral'. (I may have taken some liberties with the time line between 'Rumours' and 'Prom Queen'.) There's Finn-bashing because I simply cannot stand the douche.**

**All that said, I actually kinda love these two together –though St. Berry & Puckleberry are still my number 'wah'. **

**i know i could love you if we tried.  
>(so try)<strong>

-xx-

Rachel shows up at his motel room later that day.

(After they've all rocked out to Fleetwood Mac's '_Don't Stop_'.)

Sam's just put Stevie and Stacy down for a nap –dancing with the Glee Club whipped them out pretty good, but they had fun and he appreciates the effort all the members are putting into making it feel like everything's okay.

(Everything's so _not_ okay, though.)

They step outside to talk, walk down to the deserted park across the motel and sit on the unoccupied swings. Rachel moves back and forth, the wind in her hair, she giggles and she looks more like a five-year-old than ever –and yeah, Santana's a mayor bitch, but she _does_ have a point about Rachel dressing like toddler.

(Nevertheless, it kind of suits her. The best stars are usually the eccentric ones, after all.)

Sam sits on the swing next to hers, his fingers absentmindedly strumming the strings of his guitar –he's missed the instrument much more than he cares to admit. As of late, music's become his refuge.

'_Who do you think you are? Running around leaving scars, collecting your jar of hearts and tearing love apart_,' Rachel sings softly, smiling up at him, "That's what you're playing, right? It's pretty good. I really love that song."

Sam stares at her quizzically for a beat, "Um, yeah, I guess," he hadn't really been thinking about it, his fingers where pretty much moving on their own, "I've heard it on the radio so much that it's stuck in my head. I hadn't even realized I was playing it. You got a good ear."

"Well, I have a perfect pitch –it's kind of freaky, actually." Rachel shakes her head and grins, "Anyway, I also have a very sensitive ear. And you're talented, Sam."

"Thanks," he clears his throat awkwardly, "Um, what's up, Rachel? I mean, not that I don't appreciate the visit –and the guitar, thanks for that again, by the way –"

"–please, you honestly don't have to thank me," she cuts him off, "I don't mean to compare our situations because they aren't even close to being similar, but I figured you missed your guitar in the same way I missed my voice when I got laryngitis last year. It was like this vital piece of me was missing and I couldn't function the same way without it. Like I said, we need you, Sam. And you need the music."

(She talks a lot and really fast, but she manages to make perfect sense. That's kinda cool, he thinks.)

Sam furrows his brow, up until now he hadn't really managed to put into words why he missed his guitar so much, but Rachel just summed it up perfectly. "Yeah," he nods, "Yeah, it's exactly like that." he lets out a chuckle, "Look, I don't mean to be rude or anything, but why are you here, Rachel? This is the most we've talked in, like, _ever_."

"I know." Rachel looks down at her penny loafers, "I just–I wanted to apologize again. I never wanted you to feel embarrassed or anything. I overreact a little sometimes, and I got caught in the moment and just kept pushing. I never should've forced you to tell your secret. It wasn't my place."

"It's really fine. Well, I mean, it really _wasn't_ fine, but it's okay now. I'm actually kind of glad the secret's out. Now I don't have to hide anything anymore. It's easier that way."

(He hates lying. Never has been any good at it.)

Rachel stares at him for a second, then she shakes her head, "Well, I'm also here because I have a proposition for you, Sam." She starts as she knits her perfectly manicured fingers together in her lap, "My dads are out of town a lot –conferences and business travel, and the likes– and there's a spare room in my house. It's got a queen-sized bed and the house feels…_lonely_ sometimes. I don't mean–well, I just wanted to tell you, if you ever need a place to stay or if your parents need some space. Um, well, you can stay with me. There's plenty of room, and well…" she shrugs, "It just feels lonely."

"I don't need your charity, Rachel." his fists clench and his tone is angry.

She's looking at him again, eyes dead-set on his, "I wasn't offering any charity, Sam. I am well aware that you are not the Make-A-Wish Foundation or anything of the sort. I just thought you could use some space for yourself. A place to get away from it all. And I could certainly use the company."

His eyes soften, "Well, thanks, then," he says, "I guess. Um, I should get back. Make sure Stace and Stevie aren't up and wondering where I am."

Rachel stands up, too. She smoothes the non-existent wrinkles out her skirt, and extends her hand out to him, "Of course. Tell them I said hello. They really are great kids, Sam."

Sam shakes her hands, flashes her a smile, "Yeah, they are. Thanks, Rachel. For everything."

"You're very much welcome, Sam."

-xx-

His parents are having a hard time swinging the payment for two motel rooms faster than expected. He can tell they're trying to make things sound better than they actually are –but really, pilling up and sleeping in the minivan isn't such a distant reality anymore.

(And try as they might, there's no sugarcoating _that_.)

He tells them they can drop one of the rooms. He has a place where he can sleep for free. He can even take Stacy and Stevie, too, and watch them while they're out job-hunting. Normally it would've taken more time and effort to pitch and sell the idea to them, but they're desperate and in no position to turn away the offer.

That's how he ends up living with Rachel Berry.

They aren't friends. Not really.

They're more like pseudo-roommates.

She doesn't pity him, either.

He appreciates that –starts appreciating her, too.

She's surprisingly awesome with Stacy and Stevie. They don't live there, but they spend enough afternoons over there. Sometimes they have slumber parties.

She sings them songs from _Wicked_ and _Les Mis_, gets them hooked on Disney movies, the _Wizard of Oz_, and teaches them the wonders of Barbra Streisand.

He just shakes his head and grins –his baby brother and sister are happier now, they smile more. That's good enough for him.

They all go through an odd phase where they get obsessed with playing _Angry Birds_ and fight over the iPod like children.

(Seriously, though, that shit's addictive. Rachel takes it away from him when she realizes he's put homework on the back burner.)

("I am only doing this because I care about you, Sam," she tells him, "You cannot allow your class work to fall by the wayside." He pouts, but does all his homework anyways.)

They don't tell anybody at school about their new living arrangements, though.

It's easier that way.

They wouldn't understand.

Besides, the rumor mill works like crazy at McKinley.

The place has more drama than a damn _Gossip Girl_ episode.

-xx-

His parents kinda love Rachel by now –not just because she's putting a roof over their kid's head. Because she's smart and polite, and always visits; she also babysits Stevie and Stacy whenever Sam has football practice.

He's been living at the Berry house for two weeks now.

They have a routine pretty set, though.

(They buy two milks –soy for Rachel, whole for Sam. There's Capt'n Crunch for Sam and Wheaties for Rachel. Plus a jumbo bag of Cool Ranch Doritos in the pantry. He discovers the wonders of tofu vanilla ice-cream. Rachel finds that he can actually grill a pretty mean tofu burger. He has his own coffee cup and his very own shelf in the bathroom cabinet, complete with Burt's Bees chap stick.)

It's nice to have a routine again. He hadn't realized how much he missed that.

His job as a Pizza Delivery Boy doesn't work out.

He tries to get a job waitressing at Breadstix, but they aren't hiring. Times are tough and they're in the middle of a recession and who's gonna give a job to the high school junior who can't even afford a haircut?

He tells this to Rachel, "Look, I don't know how, but I'll find some way to pay you back for everything. I mean, I know I can't stay here forever, and I know Stevie and Stacy can't keep barging in here all the time. I'm just saying, I'll find a way to pull my own weight around here." They're in the dinning room, he's straddling a chair backwards, and pouring over the classified adds trying to reinforce the point that he _is_ making an effort to find a job and get his shit together so he can _stop_ living off of her.

"Sam, I know you don't want to feel like you're mooching off, but please don't burden yourself," She replies, reaching out to grab his hand, "I honestly don't mind having you here, and you _know_ Stevie and Stacy are always welcome. It's no trouble at all."

He sighs, "Even so, your dads _have_ to come home at some point. I'm guessing they won't be too crazy about the teenage guy and the two kids taking up residence rent-free in their house."

"They aren't due back till the end of the month." She assures him, "And Daddy's pretty into philanthropy –they honestly wouldn't mind." Or they wouldn't notice, one or the other.

He smiles, squeezes her hand back, "Thanks, Rae," he says sincerely, "These last few weeks would've been terrible without you. I'd be crammed in the back of the family car by now."

Rachel giggles, "Um, sorry, it's not funny. It's just, you called me Rae."

"Yeah. Was that wrong?"

She shakes her head, "No." she smiles at him, "Nobody's ever given me a nickname before –well, Noah once called me his Jewish-American princess or something along those lines, but it isn't the same. Rae. It's nice."

He laughs, throws the paper in his backpack, "Just a nickname." He tells her, "C'mon. We're gonna be late. You driving today, _Rae_, or is it my turn?"

She rolls her eyes at him playfully, "Here," she tosses him the key to her hybrid, "You can drive, _Sammy_. I'm still picking up Stacy after school, right?"

"Yeah. If it's not too much trouble," he says automatically, "I'm picking up Stevie from baseball practice later."

-xx-

Prom's a few days away, and he hasn't made any plans on going –he has no money, and Prom is expensive (tux and corsages and limos and all that shit).

But Rachel talks him into it nonetheless. Homemade corsages and carpooling and cheap dinner and dresses and a twenty-dollar loan, and Prom's suddenly a go again.

(He doesn't really mind –if he's gonna go with anyone, it might as well be her. She's kinda his best friend by now.)

Later that afternoon, Rachel stands beside him in the hallway, watches Finn and Quinn hold hands with doleful eyes. "At this point, wouldn't it just be timely if we fell in love, too?" She presents the solution as if it's the most practical thing in the world –with a tone so certain that only Rachel Berry could muster it– and for a second it sounds almost plausible.

(Also _ridiculously_ complicated –they're living together. Yeah, that wouldn't get weird at all.)

Sam allows himself to smile at the thought, even tough it's crazy –she seems to have that effect on him. Her eyes shift to him, almost demanding an answer. "Maybe." He offers, shrugs a shoulder, "If nothing else, it'd certainly be fitting."

"I don't know what bothers me more, that he's with Quinn now or that he doesn't even miss me. _At all_." Rachel says, the indignation in her voice obvious, "We were good together. Doesn't it bother you about Quinn?"

He looks at her. They'd never talked about this before. "I miss the good parts." He admits, "But I think that's normal. Isn't that what you miss about every relationship?" She shrugs in response, "Anyways, I don't think we were all that good together. And I don't think you and Hudson were good together at all." The look of indignation crosses her features again, this time directed at him, "Look, with Quinn…there was just all this pressure about being popular and being top of the food chain. I feel like she ended up bringing out the worst in me. And with Finn…well, didn't he treat you like crap a lot? Like, choosing his popularity over you, and flirting with Brittany and Santana, and yo-yoing you around? After the whole no-fireworks thing I thought he just made you feel bad about yourself. He brought out the worst of the insecurities in you, too. You deserve someone who'll love everything about you, and who thinks you're the most perfect girl there is just as you are. Just like I deserve someone who won't cheat on me or turn our relationship into a quid pro quo to level her own status. I don't know, I guess what I'm trying to say is that we both deserve better."

Rachel just stares at him. It feels like someone just threw a bucket of cold water on her.

"I'm sorry, Rae," he says, placing a hand across her shoulders, "Look, I didn't mean to make you feel bad. It just…it wasn't even about you, I was thinking about me and Quinn and all the stuff that went wrong with us and–"

"–no," she cuts him off, shakes her head, "You have a point, Sam. Finn and I…we were so far from perfect. Maybe it's time I stop trying to fool myself into thinking otherwise and face the truth. I need to move on."

He flashes him a smile, "At this point, wouldn't it just be timely if we fell in love?" he repeats back to her, attempting to lighten the mood. "We're okay, right? I honestly didn't mean anything by it. Rachel, I'm really sorry."

"We're fine, Sam." She assures him, "And you're gonna be late for class. I'm actually heading to the auditorium right now, but I'll see you back home?"

Sam grins, "If you're still letting me live there."

She slaps his arm lightly and they're off their separate ways.

She has to practice '_Rolling in the Deep_' for the Prom performance.

-xx-

Rachel arrives home in a fit.

She's rambling and Sam can't really understand what she's saying –something about a Jesse and eggs and being back and an Adele song and Prom. It's all very confusing.

He gets an abridged version of last year's drama. Tells her that maybe it'll be fine –let bygones be bygones and put the past in the past.

The St. James guy seems okay enough –not at all what you'd expect from someone who flunked out of college. Their group-prom-thing feels more like a double date now, but Mercedes is nice enough and they have a good time.

He notes that Jesse and Rachel seem to be comfortable around each other, and he figures she deserves a good night out.

Then Finn and Jesse start to go at it, and Kurt gets crowned Prom _Queen_, and all hell breaks loose. Santana freaks, and Quinn slaps Rachel, and…fuck. This is too much drama for his taste.

Things are never uneventful a McKinley High School.

But Rachel doesn't go after Finn, doesn't go after Jesse.

Sam's a little proud of her because of that.

She pulls him out onto the dance floor, "I feel used." He says, mock-hurt, "You're only dancing with me because your _real _date got kicked out."

"This wasn't a date, this was a group outing," she immediately amends his mistake, "And I'm sorry I let you take the backseat tonight. That was my bad. I guess I just…got swept up in the past."

He smiles warmly at her, "The past is a good place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there." He winks, "It's fine, Rae. We're here now And I promise I won't punch anyone."

At the end of the night, they take their Prom picture –Mercedes, and Sam, and Rachel.

Prom was actually pretty fun.

-xx-

He kisses her one afternoon.

They're watching movies–she's caved into watching _Avatar_ yet again–and she knows the dialogue to his favorite scenes, and she doesn't mind watching all the geeky special features of the deluxe special edition.

And she just looks too beautiful not to.

It's just a peck on the lips –definitely suggesting more than friendship, but not forcing himself on her, either.

(He respects her too much to even consider pulling off such a douche move.)

He pulls back, searches her eyes for a second. She responds in kind, crashes her lips against his.

She's slightly more forceful, showing him that she does want this.

His left hand grips her waist, his fingertips digging into the soft fabric of her sweater. His other hand cups her cheek, her skin warm against his touch in an almost fever-like manner.

They eventually pull back, foreheads resting against one another, chests heaving as they breathe heavily. "Um, that was really nice, Sam," she whispers awkwardly.

"I guess I've been told worse," he grins, "Now, did you mean 'nice' as in 'lets do it again or 'nice' as in 'be grateful I haven't slapped you away yet'?

She licks her lips, and smiles, "Definitely the former."

"Good."

(It's kinda wrong, he figures. She's his friend. They're living together. It's a recipe for disaster. But neither of them stop. Maybe there is such a thing as so wrong it's right, he concludes.)

-xx-

Next day, they find out that Coach Sylvester's sister, Jean, died.

It's personal for Finn and Kurt somehow–they both know what it's like to lose someone, so they can empathize with her.

They decide to have the Glee Club organize the service.

(Which Finn somehow still manages to turn into a _him-vs-Jesse-over-Rachel_ thing, complete with him coming out all deep and sensitive. Puck, Jesse and Sam agree that it's all a bunch of bullshit–like most things out of Finn's mouth.)

So, they plan the funeral–Santana was right: there really is no way to put the fun back in the funeral. Still, they sing '_Pure Imagination_', which is really awesome. At least it's enough to make Coach Sylvester feel better if only for a second.

Mr. Schue ends up being the one to read the eulogy.

It's nice but sad.

"_When you love someone like I loved her, there's a part of you…it's like you're attached by this invisible tether, and no matter how far away you are you can always feel them. And now every time that I reach for that tether I know there's no one on the other end, and I feel like I'm falling into nothingness._"

Sam and Rachel drive home, neither of them really saying anything. He just holds her hand and flashes her a comforting smile, and it's enough to make them both feel better.

They cuddle up on the couch with popcorn and Cokes, and decide to watch Willy Wonka.

"Y'know, when I was little, _Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory_ was my favorite book." Sam tells her, pulls her closer to him, "Reading with dyslexia _sucked_, but that book was so fun. Stevie and Stacy learned to read with it, too."

"That's a nice memory."

He nods, "Yeah. Yeah, it is."

-xx-

Next day, school's buzzing with rumors of the Finn-and-Quinn (they were always too stupid to get a nickname) breakup.

It takes Finn less than twenty-four hours to approach Rachel with some wilted flowers he stole from his own backyard, a hypocritical apology and a half-assed speech about how it's always been her he's felt tethered to.

(Seriously, plagiarizing a damn _eulogy_? That's pathetic, even for Finn.)

He expects Rachel to just jump at that –isn't that what she's been reduced to, a pitiful ghost who's eternally pinning after him?

But this time she doesn't fall for his crap –"I'm sorry that you feel this unspoken bond between us _now_–after you had me and ultimately _left me_–but I no longer feel tethered to you. In retrospect, I don't think I ever truly did. You lied to me, belittled me, you made me feel like who I was just wasn't good enough. Like I could just never _get it right_. You say you love me, but I don't think you ever really knew me. You said it yourself, you don't understand half the things I say. Sometimes I wasn't sure you were even really listening to me. Can you really love someone that way? Before, maybe I'd be willing to go back to us like nothing ever happened, but I can't now. You once told me you loved me in spite of my flaws. I now realize I want someone to love me because of them."

"Oh, and who's that, _Jesse_?" Finn demands to know like an angry little boy, "He doesn't care about you like I care about you. He used you and left you and egged you!"

"And you didn't!" Rachel yells back, finally losing her temper. By now all other sounds in the hallway have stopped and everyone's staring at them as if they were in a telenovela. "Didn't you _egg me_ from your car with the rest of football team goons? Didn't you try to _use me_ to get a college scholarship when you thought Quinn's baby was yours? Didn't you _leave me_ just a few months ago right here in this exact hallway? Where in the hell do you get off judging anyone else?"

Finn's face crinkled in confusion. _Oohs_ and _aahs_ emanated from the audience–Kurt and Mercedes already pulling out their cell phones to conference in with the rest of the Glee Club.

"And not that it is any of your business, but no, I am not back with Jesse. He's just a friend who's trying to help me out–help _all of us_ out–to win Nationals. It really seems that you only want me when you can't have me." She shakes her head, "I don't love you anymore, Finn. And I'm sorry if that news is displeasing to you, but it's not for me. I simply grew tired of pleading for morsels of your affection and approval. So why don't you do me a favor and leave me alone."

Finn reaches out, attempts to grab her arm and run off after her, but Puck appears, pushes him against the lockers. "She said to leave her alone, dude." He practically snarls, "Back _off_."

The tall boy pushes back, "How's this any of your business? Doesn't Zizes keep your balls in a drawer now or something?"

Puck easily pins him back against the lockers, "Get in my face again and you'll see if I still my balls, Hudson." He sneers. Finn pointlessly struggles against the hold, but fails miserably. He finally tells Puck to just get off, and kicks a locker in a hissy fit.

Sam trailed off after Rachel long ago.

-xx-

He finds her in the empty choir room, sitting up at the piano absentmindedly stroking the ivory keys.

(Brad would be so pissed if he caught her.)

He sits next to her, strokes a few keys himself. "I, um, I overheard what happened in the hall. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she replies, "That talk had to happen sooner or later. I guess I just hoped it wouldn't be in school, out in the middle of the hall where everybody could hear us."

He puts an arm around her, lets her lean her head on his shoulder. He rests his chin atop her head. "So, Finn's a douche bag. That's news?" he says, "You deserve way better, Rae."

"Thank you, Sam," she whispers, looking up at him. A beat passes and she leans forward to press her lips against his, "I think I do have someone better now." She says, looks away for a second, "Right?" she whispers the question.

He smiles, kisses her, "If you'll have me." he says, "Um, Puck's out there defending your honor. I thought I'd just come be with you. You've got plenty of people in your corner, Rachel. Look, I don't know about being tethered to you, but as of late, every time I reach out for someone, you're always there for me. I just want you to know I'm always here for you, too. No matter what."

"That's all I could ever ask for." She says, resting her head on his shoulder again.

-xx-

There are still auditions for Nationals solos and duets because even in group numbers there has to be _someone_ singing lead.

They decide to work up a number. They've yet to sing together in a competition, and it'll be an easy (and dramatic) way to announce their couple status.

(Because after hearing Rachel ramble on for half an hour and listening to her use all sorts of big words that he later had to look up in the dictionary, they decide that that's what they are now–a couple.)

"So, this song's really special," Sam starts as he adjusts the strap of his guitar, "And, uh, I hope you like it."

Sam's agile fingers pluck the strings of his guitar flawlessly. A simple yet appealing beat coming from the instrument. He licks his lips before starting on the first verse:

_I opened my eyes last night  
>And saw you in the moonlight<br>Walking down the bay, on the shore  
>Staring up at the planes that aren't there anymore<em>

He sways gracefully in time with the beat, fingers still agilely strumming on the guitar strings. Brad joins in on the piano and it's kind of stunning how such an effortless melody can sound so beautiful –the whole choir room seems to lighten up.

In the back, Santana and Brittany link the pinkies together; the blonde rests her head on the Latina's shoulder comfortably. Mike drops a subtle kiss on Tina's cheek. Mercedes and Kurt sway together from side to side, grinning happily. A smile tugs at the corner of Quinn's lips. Even Puck is tapping his foot in time with the song's easy rhythm.

_You can hear the waves in underwater caves_

_As if you actually were inside a saltwater room. _

At this, Sam sets his guitar down, extends a hand out towards the last row of chairs. Rachel stands up and smiles at him, walking down between the chairs and firmly taking a hold of it. _Time together is just never quite enough_, she sings, standing in front of everyone.

_When you and I are alone, I've never felt so at home_, Sam sings back at her, his eyes piercing hers and his hand gripping her tightly as their fingers entwine.

The change in the mood of the room is almost palpable. Santana lets out an annoyed huff and Mercedes mutters a 'this gonn' be hot damn mess' as she nudges Kurt. Quinn's jaw drops in clearly dissatisfied surprise, and Finn's lips set in a tight line, he scoots forward in his seat, and a glare reduces his eyes into even more unattractive slits.

Rachel seems unaware of the effect their duet is having on everyone. She presses on, always unwilling to leave a performance unfinished, _What will it take to make or break this hint of love?_

_We need time, only time_, Sam replies, twirling her around and then pulling her back against his chest.

Rachel's fingers tousle his blonde locks playfully, _When we're apart whatever are you thinking of?_

_If this is what I call home, why does it feel so alone?_

_So tell me, darling, do you wish we'd fall in love?_ There's a mischievous spark in Rachel's eyes –she remembers posing a similar question to him as a joke once. It doesn't sound like a joke now. She's proud of her perfect song selection.

_All the time, all the time_, he sings back at her, nodding firmly and his tone steadfast.

For the first time, they face the rest of the club, clapping along to Brad's piano melody, encouraging them to get over the shock, get over themselves and join in.

(They changed pairings on an almost weekly basis–the entire Glee Club was more incestuous than the _Dawson's Creek_ kids.)

And it works –Mike gets up, improvises an appropriate pop-and-lock, everyone cheers him on.

Sam picks up the next verse, still dancing along with Rachel to the song. Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves –with the noticeable exception of Finn and Quinn. (Are those two even _capable_ of being happy for someone other than themselves?)

_I feel as if I were home some night  
>when we count all the ship lights.<br>I guess we'll never know why sparrows love the snow.  
>We'll turn off all of the lights and set this ballroom aglow. <em>

Sam reaches out for Rachel's hands once more, this time simply facing each other as they sing the final chorus. Like their very own sung private conversation.

_Time together is just never quite enough_.  
><em>When you and I are alone, I've never felt so at home.<br>What will it take to make or break this hint of love?  
>We need time, only time.<em>

_When we're apart whatever are you thinking of?_  
><em>If this is what I call home, why does it feel so alone?<br>So tell me, darling, do you wish we'd fall in love?_

_Yeah, all the time. All the time_, they finish in harmony. Their voices meld perfectly together. And yes, he's doesn't entirely match her vocally, but she sounds (_feels_) infinitely better with him than she ever did with Finn.

Nothing's really certain yet. Maybe they're not tethered to one another, but for the first time in a really long time, they both feel that they have someone there.

And that's more than enough.

* * *

><p>Title comes from the song '<em>Try<em>'  
>Song used is '<em>The Saltwater Room<em>'


End file.
